


these violent delights have violent ends

by ladykestrel



Category: The Winner's Trilogy - Marie Rutkoski
Genre: Alternative Ending - The Winner's Crime, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykestrel/pseuds/ladykestrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there are winners, and there are losers. and sometimes those who meant to win play a losing hand.</p>
<p>or: a different take on twcrime’s ending, both kestrel and arin are captured and the emperor is a wicked sort of man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these violent delights have violent ends

“She’s gone.”

A sharp breath. Arin felt the ground shake beneath him. Suddenly he was on his knees. He had damned himself enough already. What was a broken oath to a death sentence?

“You’re lying,” the desperation in him said out loud. “I know that you are.”

The emperor drew closer to Arin. His steps were slow, calculated. A lifetime spent in the torture of the innocent shone through his movements. Arin almost spat in the emperor’s face. He almost felt the sting of the punishment he’d receive for it.

“Ah, denial. Why does everyone insist on it?” The Valorian emperor smiled at Arin then, but was cold and sharp as an icicle.

Arin knew it was pointless to deny. The man before him did not make idle threats, nor did he ever fail to deliver them. There was a chattering sound filling the dark cell. Arin realized it was coming from him. His shaking was rattling the chains. 

But Arin loved stories. He tried to tell himself one. 

In the story, he was not chained in a filthy dungeon. He was on a ship, having escaped the capital by the hair on his head. He was sailing home, toward his people, to warn them. To save them. Arin got there just in time. 

But he had gotten too old for stories.

“How.” Arin’s voice was flat, emotionless. 

The emperor laughed. “Do not fret. I made sure the punishment fit the crime. Oh, how she screamed.”

This time, Arin didn’t hold himself back. A guard was on him at once. Then another. The emperor hadn’t even bothered to step back. He laughed again. Arin hated that sound, hated its source. Blood boiling, he trashed against the Valorians’ hold. One hand slipped free.

Then everything faded.

*

The air was stale. The cell smelled of vomit and other things Kestrel would have rather not think about. It was cold too, sending chills over her exposed skin. The corset had loosened, letting icy air through the gaps and down her back. Kestrel tried to keep her feet warm by tucking them underneath her legs, wrapping them as best she could in the silky fabric of her dress. 

She’d backed herself in a corner as soon as the guards had thrown her in through the metal bars. If someone were to walk by, they would see a quivering shape, cowering in darkness. General Trajan’s daughter would have never gotten herself in this position. The prince’s fiancé would have never been accused of treason.

But Kestrel was no longer a general’s daughter. Her engagement to the prince was broken.

Now she was just another criminal. And soon, she would be just the memory of one.

Metal creaked somewhere in the dark. Kestrel got on her feet, reminding herself to stand tall. It took a great effort, but her chin went up higher and Kestrel managed to force her legs not to wobble so much. She fought against the fatigue, fought against her own body as it rumbled and demanded food and water. Licking her chapped lips, Kestrel stood closer to the cell’s bars.

“-is going on, Father?” The familiar voice sent a jolt through Kestrel’s body. Verex. Her friend.

“Come, Verex. See what a fine bride that fiancé of yours turned out to be,” the emperor said. Kestrel more sensed the men in front of her before she was able to see them. Her eyes struggled to adjust to new light in the darkness.

“Kestrel?” Verex leaned in. “Is that you?” The prince, apparently, had not been informed of her crimes. He, however, did not look all too shocked.

“Isn’t she lovely, son? A gilded bird, in a gilded cage.” The emperor paused. “Some birds you can tame. But some cannot handle the pressure. They bend at odd angles. Such a shame, is it not.” He observed her, the girl who might have been his heir. Kestrel felt a small satisfaction that she’d been able to play him, at least once. She only hoped Arin had gotten away with her message and was now on his way to Herran.

“What is it, little bird? Lost your voice?” Kestrel refused to pay him any attention. She steeled her gaze. “Well, I suppose there is a reason you were named after a hawk, not a songbird.” The emperor chuckled at his own humor. 

She didn’t want to meet Verex’s eyes, didn’t want to see the disappointment in them.

The emperor went on to explain at length what Kestrel had done, what crimes she’d committed. Verex took it all in, listening, his body stoic as a statue. “Done all in the name of love. How touching, isn’t it, Verex? And think how romantic it would be when the two lovers watch as each of them die.”

At that, Kestrel paled. Tried to hide it. The emperor noticed – of course he did. “Oh, yes, Kestrel. Your governor will be so happy to see you, right before his throat is slit.”

“No,” she shouted. Or thought she did. There was no echo. Her fingers gripped the metal bars. The emperor simply laughed.

He walked up to her cage. “Be grateful, daughter, that I allow you this small grain of mercy,” the Valorian ruler sneered. Kestrel wanted to bite back, to spit everything she’d held back for months. Instead, her eyes remained on his, meeting the challenge in his.

“I’d like a minute alone with the prisoner,” Verex stated. He was still a statue. The tone he used hit Kestrel as if he were beating her chest open. The emperor shrugged and left.

The guards stayed behind. 

“I cannot believe you were stupid enough to get here.” The prince’s voice was cold, biting as the air in the cells. He continued, “You could have had the entire palace, Kestrel, you would have been its queen. Now you are its prisoner.”

At first, Kestrel wanted to shrink back, the urge to curl in on herself getting stronger. But Verex’s last remark struck a chord in her. His words were a two-faced tile. Kestrel turned it over.

She had not been taken to the city’s dungeons as she’d first suspected. She was somewhere in the palace. After Verex left, Kestrel looked around. She noticed the stone-covered walls and floors. The lack of windows. The stale air. The suffocating sensation she felt when breathing, despite the absence of warmth. A heaviness clung to the cells, wearing her down.

The cell was underground. It was almost worse than being in the grimy prison across the city.

*

Arin was now relatively certain he was not being held at the palace anymore. He’d been knocked out cold when the Valorian troops finally caught up to him, rendering him unconscious gods knew for how long. 

Long enough to drag his limp body away to a different prison, it appeared.

And it meant the emperor had lied to him. Hope swelled inside Arin’s ribcage. Perhaps he had fed him lies about other things too. It was a stupid thing, hope. It planted its seed and took up roots directly in the heart.

He paced the length of his cell. It was all he could have been able to do since coming to and finding his chains missing.  Recently, he’d begun leaning against the walls, but it was not long until his feet propelled him to move again. His body was tired, sleep and fatigue pressing onto Arin’s eyelids, but restlessness and something else, something like pride, kept him from giving in. 

Arin had begun tracking time on the walls. With each round of guards changing, he chipped at the rough walls, creating a makeshift line. The tips of his fingers were now coated with dried blood, his nails chipped and broken and barely there.

He followed the pattern of the guards, who he suspected changed twice a day. There were six bloody lines engraved on the wall. An estimated three days. How long before the emperor came again, this time with the royal executioner? His death could not be a public spectacle, not if the emperor still wanted Arin’s land. Perhaps a dagger? Or a sword. Handed to him, for Arin to fall on. Surely the emperor would not stoop so low. There was no such thing as an object possessing honor.

Perhaps the emperor did not care. Perhaps he would give his subjects some entertainment before slaughtering an entire country. Perhaps he’d leave Arin for last, waiting until he had no country and no people left at all.

If only he could send a message to Dacra. 

Arin’s mind immediately went to Tensen’s moth.

Risha’s face blinked across Arin’s vision. It molded into Kestrel’s, like it had thousands of times before. This time, it solidified, the eyes staying amber. Her lips moved but the words did not match. _Yes_ , Kestrel mouthed – an answer to every question he’d asked her in that piano room. _No_ , her voice countered. It became louder and louder until it felt like Kestrel was screaming in his ears, as her face had twisted in pain.

Arin shook his head, chasing away the thoughts. His hair, longer now, had fallen over his eyes. He lifted a dirty hand and flicked it away.

Another two lines went on the wall. Arin’s fingers split more, blood now covering the entire length of his fingers. Then several pairs of footsteps approached his cell. The unmistakable click of keys clashing against each other. He made himself turn to greet his guests as the bars split open.

“Leave us,” someone ordered. 

“But His Imperial Majesty-“

“Is not here. I am. And I command you to leave.”

Arin’s eyes adjusted in time to see three guards look at each other, then walk away. He chuckled humorlessly. Then returned his attention back to the wall.

“You won’t be chuckling for long, I’d wager.” That just made Arin do it again.

“If you are here to make threats, I’m afraid your father beat you to it.” Perhaps he was feeling bold. Perhaps it was the knife, looming over his head, waiting for the right time. Perhaps it was out of sheer stupidity that Arin leaned his face closer to the prince. “Tell me, how hurt is your imperial pride, to know your own bride betrayed you?”

There was silence. Then the prince’s voice filled the dungeon. “If you were as smart as you believe yourself to be, you would quiet and listen.” As every bit as arrogant as his father. “I’m here to help you.”

Arin scoffed.

The prince’s eyes hardened. “Scoff all you like, governor. It’s because of me you can.”

“Why do I find that so hard to believe?”

“It does seem ludicrous, I agree.” 

“And why would the Valorian prince be helping a slave?”

He quieted, lips pursing into a thin line. Then the prince said, “Because you’re not the only one that cares for her.”

Something knocked the wind out of Arin. “Save your precious efforts. She’s dead,” he said.

“Not yet.” The prince then left and Arin was once again alone in the darkness.

*

Kestrel had no idea how long she’s been imprisoned. There were no windows, no light. Only the cold and dark of the prison cell. Kestrel grew used to the nauseating smell, just like it grew used to her. It stuck to her skin and coated her gown. 

A maid came and went, never in any particular pattern that Kestrel could recognize. The emperor was no fool, and he knew that neither was she. The maid was tasked with clearing out the bucket. Sometimes she would bring a goblet of water with her and despite herself, Kestrel would down it in large, unladylike gulps. This time, when she came, the maid brought some bread as well. It was Kestrel’s first meal since she’d been caught. The bread was hard and not nearly enough, but it would suffice. It seemed unlikely that it would be poisoned. No, this was not how the emperor played his games. She greedily bit into the small bun.

The maid did not return again. 

Soon after, Kestrel threw the measly contents of her stomach into the bucket. She continued to double over long after all of the bread and water had come out. Afterwards, she felt more exhausted than before, her body shivering harder. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she clumsily reached a filthy arm to wipe it away.

Kestrel spent a long time staring at her hands. The nails she’d once kept so short and clean were now grimy and chipped. Her fingers no longer resembled those of a pianist’s. There was enough strength - or was it pride - in her to keep from weeping.

Time passed. Kestrel’s growing fatigue was wearing her down and she kept drifting in and out of slumber. Her hair was constantly damp with sweat, and tangled beyond combing. She’d have to cut it again, she thought, before laughing at the preposterous thought of living long enough to do it.

The emperor didn’t visit her again either, nor did Verex. Nobody but the shifting guards kept her company. Kestrel wondered where the other prisoners were, if they’d been transferred, or simply killed to make more room. A selfish part of her was glad for the emptiness.

She slept. Her dreams were full of carriage rides and stolen moments in the dark. Enai was there too, on occasion. She took Kestrel in her arms and whispered Herrani blessings. Jess, running through the horse paths behind the general’s villa, Kestrel right beside her. Ronan, handing her cherry-flavoured pasties and leaning behind on a picnic blanket. Arin, his lullaby echoing through the rooftop garden. She forgot them all when her eyes blinked open.

It was when noises came from somewhere in the dungeon that Kestrel knew that time had stopped.

*

There was some sort of commotion. The air was buzzing with something, the same way insects grew restless before a storm. 

Arin picked himself up from the floor. He tried to lean in more, to peek at what was going on, but failed.

“What’s happening?” he tried asking the several guards who were now opening his cell. They stayed silent. He tried again in Valorian. He received no answer still.

He only got in a few steps before the emperor appeared before him, in all his glory. “Ah, it’s good to see you ready and already waiting.”

All Arin could think in that moment was that Roshar was about to be terribly disappointed.

*

Kestrel had been chained and shoved all the way to the wagon. The guards groped her like some sort of animal, nudging and tugging and sneering at her. As if she weren’t already defenseless enough. As if she could fight back.

All she would do is throw them dirty looks through narrowed eyes. She even managed to step in front of one of the men’s feet, tripping them. “Sorry,” Kestrel murmured when the guard straightened and tightened his hold. She bowed her head to hide a smile. 

A vague idea of where they were taking her was forming inside Kestrel’s mind. She’d been waiting for this moment to come. But not dreading it, Kestrel realized. Resignation pulsed through her veins, not really preparing her for what was to come, but allowing her to detach herself from it. Kestrel was numb, covered in a coat of ice.

Soon the ice will thaw her blood. Soon, she’d feel nothing at all.

She let herself be loaded into the wagon. Kestrel looked through the small window, taking in the scenery for one last time.

*

“Tell me, Arin,” the emperor way saying, “have I not been generous enough to you and your people? Have I not given you your freedom back?”

Arin remained silent, gritting his teeth. A torch had been lit and he focused his eyes on the flame.

“I think of myself as a just ruler. Some might call me callous, a tyrant. But I only do what I do for the good of my empire. Surely you, of all people, would understand that. Wouldn’t you do anything for your country, governor?” The emperor was pacing in front of Arin and the guards flanking him. There was a thoughtful expression on the Valorian’s face.

Arin was about to tell him what he could do _for the good of his empire_ right then and there when a pounding interrupted his thoughts.

*

She had to hide her surprise when the wagon arrived at its destination. She hadn’t expected this.

In the end, it was good that Kestrel hadn’t had more to eat. The stench was worse than she remembered. It smelled of intestines and death.

Kestrel was lead further down the steep stairs than when she’d been here last. She looked at the captain stomping down his heavy boots in front of her. Some things were still the same.

They’d reached the end of the staircase and the captain of the Imperial guard turned to her. “This is where we keep our most special guests,” he said with a twisted smile. He pushed open a door.

A small light came from the narrowed hall. Kestrel squinted, trying to make out the scene.

“We can truly begin now.” she heard the emperor exclaim.

As he stepped aside, Kestrel’s heartbeats ceased. She drew in a sharp breath.

*

A gasp reverberated through the dungeon. Arin looked toward its source. Met a pair of familiar eyes. They were still as bright as they were in his memory. Her hair, though, was different. Filthy. The red of her gown, the colour a little faded, was the most contrasting thing in the room.

Two guards on each side were holding her with her arms tucked behind her back. Pointless. Kestrel was rooted in her spot, her stare fixed on him.

He had begun to think the prince had lied. He had convinced himself it was a trick, a ploy made up by him and his monster of a father. 

Hadn’t Verex promised to help as well? Arin felt foolish, then angry for his foolishness.

Words logged in his throat. So many things he wanted to say, wanted Kestrel to know. There were so many things he wanted to hear from her. Desire upon desire layered onto Arin’s soul, choking him with want. With _need_. 

“Arin,” she mouthed, like a whisper of the wind. But there was no wind here. Arin doubted they’d both ever feel it blowing in their faces again. Desperation suddenly clawed at him, pleading his body to move, to fight. To do something, to save her, and himself. Kestrel’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. That was what unhinged him. 

He moved fast, so fast the guards were caught by surprise for a sliver of a moment. Kestrel shouted. The room descended into chaos. Arin managed to elbow one in the chest, the second receiving a blow to the head and staggering back. But two new guards were on him as soon as he’d gotten away from the previous. They grabbed Arin’s arms and held him down as his whole body trashed against them. A third man came up to them and struck a punch. Arin’s face throbbed.

The emperor held up a hand. The guard standing in front Arin was preparing to land another blow, but his arm sagged. He stepped away.

“That’s quite enough theatrics,” the emperor said. He turned his attention to Kestrel. “Is this what you gave up everything for, Kestrel? Was _it_ \- this slave - worth disgracing your father?”

Kestrel’s watery eyes never wavered from where Arin was held. She watched his chest rise and fall.

Arin saw the world in her eyes. There were the fifty keystones she’d paid for him, the topaz earrings, his poetry book, Irex’s death price, Kestrel with her wobbly knee leaning on her parasol, freedom on a piece of paper crumbled in his fist. All the lies Kestrel told, all the truths she wanted to say instead. Her true feelings hidden behind the amber of her eyes like looking through glass.

Then, horror.

Something stung at the base of his throat. Arin choked. The guards let go and he fell to his knees, hands going up to his neck and coming off wet. He could not draw breath. Arin felt like he was drowning and suffocating and…

A scream pierced his ears. 

It was the last thing Arin heard before collapsing on the floor, blood pooling around him.

*

Horrifying. It was horrifying. Kestrel tried to shield her eyes, but the captain grabbed both of her hands, forcing her to watch.

She saw Arin fall, saw him struggling still, choking on his own blood. His mouth made awful noises as his throat bled, bled, bled.

There was so much blood.

It was everywhere.

Kestrel screamed again. She screamed until her own throat went raw and her lungs felt like collapsing. Moisture streaked down her face, but Kestrel hardly noticed anything but the writhing body. Arin jerked from left to right, trying to let air in. His movements slowed gradually, until he finally stilled.

They let her hands go. Kestrel sunk to the floor. Slowly she crawled to Arin. Not minding the crimson puddle she kneeled into, Kestrel took his head into her lap. She stroked his hair. It had gotten longer again. Kestrel flicked a few locks away from Arin’s face, the same gesture she’d seen him do countless times, like she had wanted to do.

“No” Kestrel whispered over and over.

“Finish this up,” the emperor said.

She felt the tip of a sword pierce her. She felt it sink deeper. Kestrel would have laughed out loud, were it not for the pain. Of course, she was not allowed an honorable death. 

The sword twisted then pulled out. Kestrel felt blood leak through the fabric of her gown. Crimson on crimson. How fitting.

She pitched forward. 

At first there was pain. 

Then there was nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ title taken from william shakespeare’s romeo and juliet (but i bet you already knew that).  
> \+ i wrote this a year ago because i was in the mood for Pain and apparently twcrime’s ending was not enough.  
> \+ this is only an exploratory au, which was never likely to happen. as i said, i was just in the mood for it.


End file.
